


Life After Death

by TheNobodyofaSOLDIER



Category: Hellsing
Genre: Action, Angst, Childhood Friends, Death, F/M, Fluff, Horror, Inspired by Edgar Allan Poe, Rough Sex, Seduction, Sexual Content, Vampire Sex, Vampires, War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-26
Updated: 2019-09-26
Packaged: 2020-10-28 12:56:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 16
Words: 13,480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20778935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheNobodyofaSOLDIER/pseuds/TheNobodyofaSOLDIER
Summary: A collection of scenarios and one-shots dedicated to the series "Hellsing!"





	1. Merche Funebre

[Integra x Vampire!Reader]

The battlefield reeked of death: the odd stench of iron, as ripples of blood seeped into the dirt, the disgusting rank stench of the rotting flesh, the smoke invading your nostrils, tingling your tear ducts. Every muscle failed you and pinned you to the rough blades of grass. Bullets penetrated and violated your body down to your quivering bones. Your crimson life fluid pooled beneath you, staining your tattered uniform.

Somehow, you predicted your fate to end this way. After all, you belonged to the Hellsing Organization. You tied yourself, body and soul, to the whims of its leaders.

The center of this corporation, the nervous system, the one person that gave it life, approached you.

Sir Integra Fairbrooks Wingates Hellsing watched her men die that day, all in unimaginable ways; their limbs ripped from their bodies, as their blood spurted from the open gashed like fountains, their bodies sliced to ribbons, torn apart like a sheet of paper.

These weren’t just soldiers, puppets she used for a greater purpose. No, these were her men. These were human beings that dedicated their life to a noble call, men with lives, families, loved ones, thoughts, feelings...

All slaughtered like pigs...

She halted before your figure, solemn blue eyes taking in every detail. Despite your becoming a being, conforming to the ways of the night, your strength was little to nonexistent to the vampire Alucard. Even still, you gave your all, every ounce of yourself to her heavenly mission.

Swallowing the hard lump forming in her throat, she knelt beside you, every part of her trembling with rage.

“[Name],” she whispered. “What have they done to you?”

“M-master-!” salted blood bubbled in your mouth, causing you to cough. Utter so much as one word sent nothing but pain through you.

“Hush, soldier,” she said, pulling you up by your rest, cradling you delicately, as if you’d shatter into a million pieces.

“Please, Master,” you continued, gripping her palm with urgency. “Please, kill me. I-” you gulped down, throat stinging along the way. “I’m too torn apart. It pains me,” your breath caught as you choked back an aching sob. “I can’t be healed.”

Her expression, though hard, indicated sorrow, lids brimming with tears. She knew you were correct. You were lucky with what remains were left behind, but even that could not be salvaged. She ghosted a hand over your chest, resting it right where your ribs caged your undead heart.

Cold skin, no pulse, only survived on the blood of humans, yet you gave yourself to her.

Such devotion was worthy of admiration...

Sinking her teeth into her bottom lip, Integra lay your head gently against the top of her leg. She then slowly, almost hesitantly, pulled her pistol from her coat, pressing the rim into your tender flesh. Still grasping her hand, you smiled and nodded, sparkling tears streaking down your filthy face.

Even with everything you suffered through, you still possessed such purity.

Squeezing her eyes together, she muttered in a firm voice,

“Deliver, Lord, the soul of Thy servant from all danger of Hell.”

With a deep exhale, you closed your eyes, content to die at the hand of your Master.

“And from all pain and tribulation.”

With one subtle movement of her fingertip, she pulled the trigger.

“Amen.”

The morning was clouded with the muted light of the hidden sun. Each of the sky’s veil, tainted with a somber gray, hinted at the storm to come. A frozen breeze pricked the skin of the remaining soldiers, standing silently over the graves of their lost comrades. Integra, dressed in an ebony gown, hat and covering, concealed the sorrow twisting within her. As the head of this organization, it was her responsibility to see her subordinates received a proper burial and farewell.

Even the solitary nightwalkers...

She gazed at the cross chiseled into your gravestone. True, she still believed in her mission, her purpose in the world of ridding the filth and evil contaminating its surfaces, but these guiltless lives deserved to be spared.

You deserved to be spared.  
With a shuddering sigh, she lowered herself graceful to the front of the headstone, leaving behind a small white blossom, a symbol of your virtue, your sweet innocence, so brutally taken from you.

After one more moment of perfect stillness, she saluted you, your sacrifice and the sacrifices made by these brave men. The survivors followed her actions with as much fervor.

Closing her eyes, she whispered a quiet prayer for you, that your soul, despite belong to a vampire, would be granted the mercy of resting in peace.

You at least deserved that much...


	2. Midnight Talks

[Integra x Mute!Reader]

How hard it was being a dedicated soldier. You felt as though you never possessed a life of your own. You followed orders to the best of your abilities. You utilized your hand to hand combat and skill in firearms when needed. You watched your comrades perish in ghastly manners, only seen in one’s worst of nightmares, and you avenged them as your power would allow. You protected the life and breath of the Hellsing organization, the most important being Sir Integra Fairbrooks Wingates Hellsing herself, and you did so with no arguments, no questions, without hesitation.

This was all that was required of you: all you had to offer, your entire person, your everything.

Once that deal was made, you couldn’t argue against it even if you wanted to leave.

Not that you could argue. Hell, you couldn’t even speak.

All you knew to do was nod, fully expressing your obedience to your Master.

But, that was all you needed, and unbeknownst to you, it was all she needed.

The evening chilled through the frosted windows, seeping into Integra’s small office. The sorrowful moon concealed its nimble, subdued streaks behind the sky’s billowy cloak. A frigid wind threatened to break open the pane, rattling the rims slightly. She straightened the frames on her nose and gazed intently at the black and white writing, as they slowly became incoherent blotches on her papers. With half a growl, she slammed her pen down. One minute of this work and she’d rip it all to shreds right then and there. Walter retired to his room. The vampires were only God knew where, so she was cooped up in her office in a choking, solitary silence. Sharply exhaling, she pushed out her chair and shuffled out of her cage.

Damn, she needed a good cigar and perhaps red wine to accompany it.

She made her way down the hall, lids heavy with the weight of fatigue, eyes burning and stinging from a fixated strain, limbs threatening to detach from her body, laden with exhaustion. Oh, how she longed to retire to the comfort of her sheets and sleep away her troubles.

Of course, that would depend on her brain actually shutting down...

Midway her stroll, a shadow loomed at the end of the foyer. At first, she nearly reached for the pistol concealed behind her jacket at all times, until your face was revealed in the quiet light.

“Ah, forgive me,” she said with a sigh. “I always find myself more alert when night falls. Surely, you understand.”

You weakly smiled and nodded. Dark circles hung beneath your orbs. Your shoulders slumped slightly, and baggy clothes draped over your form. You too showed every sign of lethargy but as expected of a soldier, your mind refused to leave you be.

A small smile graced her elegant features. “I am out to retrieve some midnight refreshments before returning to work,”she explained. “Care to join me?”

Taken a back by such informal behavior from your master, your eyes twitched a little wider. Ducking your head down, you bowed humbly.

“Oh, please,” she said with a half chuckle. “None of that now,” she tapped your shoulder and urged you to her side.

Instead of an awkward quietness, the same that accompanied her in the office, Integra vocalized her mild distresses and annoyances to you; nothing deep, nothing that required too much pondering. Just releasing stored up negative emotions and finding a state of catharsis.

Despite your inability to properly converse with her, you didn’t mind this. In fact, you rather enjoyed it. Being the head of Hellsing, you could only imagine the burden she carried on you shoulders everyday. To top it all off, your Master chose you, a humble soldier, to share these thoughts with.

It felt almost daunting to see her so vulnerable, so open with her feelings. She was a traditional English woman with every essence of grace and yet power that left most quivering in fear grafted into her being. Not once did she ever walk with her head hung low but mighty and proud of who she was and her lineage. Seeing her slightly hunched with her hair masking her face, her clothes loose, was almost uncomfortable. But, knowing you were doing something for her was all that mattered.

After retrieving her desired items, the walk back to her office slowed as she continued to talk to you. You nodded. You listened. You smiled. You frowned. You even possessed the courage to place your hand on her shoulder, maybe massage it gently.

You didn’t need words.

A hint of sadness settled in your stomach as you returned to the front of her office. You wanted to kick yourself for feeling the way you did, but you wanted to keep doing, to stay at her side and share her load, listen to her woes, but all good things came to an end.

Integra took a moment to gaze into your tired face, these quiet thoughts written all over your face. Using her free hand, she pushed a lock of hair behind your hair. You widened your eyes but refused to move.

“Thank you, [Name],” she half whispered. “You helped make me feel so much better.”

Without you even realizing, your pulse quickened within your rib cage.

With a resonating chuckle, she turned to the door and said,

“I look forward to our next midnight stroll. You are accompanying me, correct?”

You nearly gazed at her stupidly for too long until you nodded fervently.

“Sleep well then,” she replied in a sultry voice before taking her leave for the night. 

Despite the insomniac draining your energy bit by bit, you held your head a little higher that night. All this time when you were you were thought of as merely a pawn, a puppet belonging to Hellsing without the ability to speak, the center of the organization itself singled you out. Seeing her at such a close proximity made you respect her even more than before.

You smiled to yourself as you entered your personal corridors. To be honest, you couldn’t wait until the clutches of insomnia would bring you together for another promenade and midnight talk.


	3. Death Wish

[Alucard x Sick!Reader]

_My beloved,_

_I am fully aware of what you are, and what you have become._

_You belong to a world engulfed in darkness, while I dwell in the light. You hold strength that crush men’s bones into dust, that would leave an army of the most courageous cavalrymen quivering in fear, a strength so great even the Devil cowers in fear._

_Yet, I tremble just from venturing out of my bed._

_But, I care not._

_My feelings for you remain as they always were, unwavering and true._

_Despite its frailty, despite the meaningless impact my life possesses in this world,_

_I love you._

_Pathetic, is it not? A feeble human doting on a feared demon?_

_ I ask you not to reciprocate these foolish feelings._

_I only inquire that you be the one to bid me farewell as I depart this world._

With a low sigh, vibrating the entirety of his chest, he carefully folded the note, slipping into his coat pocket. After shielding all light from the world beyond with diaphanous drapes, he turned to the frail figure, filmy eyes resting on him, as she danced in that solemn sphere between life and death. Despite what little power her incapacitated body withheld, he found her worthy of regard, even admiration. 

Such fortitude you still contained, wrestling with death since day one. 

And here you lay, more courageous and intrepid than any knight, cavalier or paladin.

With a dark smile gracing his lips, his eyes radiating with a crimson light, he bowed humbly to this noble lady. 

Mustering what little strength she held, she returned the favor. 

The bed moaned as it withstood his weight. Despite his aura of evil, she only gazed at him with affectionate eyes, though weary and fading. With a soft grunt, she laced her arms about his broad shoulders, urging him to come closer. Pale, deft fingers knotted in her locks as fangs whiter than the moon’s rays gleamed in the darkness. Breath, cold and lifeless, cooled over the skin of her neck. 

With a animalistic growl, he sunk his teeth into her tender flesh, the sweet flavor of her blood coating his tongue, clouding his senses. 

Releasing one more exasperated sigh, she sunk into a blissful state of numbness. Closing her eyes for the final time, her soul departed in serenity, her lifeless body limp in the arms of her supernatural lover.

Once he was sure her organic vessels were completely drained of her precious blood, he smiled down at her, brushing aside her locks to scrutinize her placid face, flawless as a porcelain doll. 

After a gentle kiss upon her dry, frozen lips, he whispered, his devilish smile prominent in the darkness,

“Goodnight, my dear...”


	4. Braids

[Walter x Vampire!Reader]

“Ow! Stop it! That hurts!”

“Then, hold still.”

“But, you’re pulling my hair!”

“Beg your pardon, miss, but that is primarily your squirming.”

You rolled your eyes, sinking your chin into the crook of your arms, the sleek vanity cooling your heated skin. An assortment of blood-soaked bandages covered the cuts and bruises tearing the delicate vessels of your arms and cheeks. Though not horrendously painful, the constant stings from every opening were enough to irritate you.

Of course, Walter pulling and tugging at your messy, matted locks failed to make the situation any better.

“When I asked you to pull my hair back,” you half growled. “I meant get it it out of my face not yank off my scalp!”

The raven haired gentleman, with a quiet sigh, continued his assault on those tender nerve endings, sliding his fingers through your hair, gathering any loose strands into his grip.

In all your years in serving Hellsing, after all the battles you fought, after all the monsters perishing at your hands, never did you predict that the worst agony you would endure would be caused by the damn Angel of Death braiding your hair.

Sinking your fangs into your bottom lip, you buried your face into your palms. “You know, I could easily drain you of your blood if you don’t cut it out.”

“Coming from the young lady I so easily subdued in the streets,” he parted the long mess of hair into three sections, the locks loosely wrapping around his fingers.

You grunted. How true this was. Despite your supernatural strength and agility, this character, Walter C. Dornez specialized in vanquishing the forces of darkness. His skill was unmatched, not even by the undead.

“I could just dash,” you growled, the stinging from his pulling grating so much on your nerves, it left them raw.

“Again, quite pointless, my dear,” he replied, finally folding the pieces one over the other. “Besides, I know not why you keep up these protests. You were the one that asked me to do this.”

Again, he was right. No matter what comeback you concocted, no matter what witty needle you pricked, he always managed to retort every statement.

And with every bit of composure and aplomb, just making it all the more irritating.

At last, the abuse against your nerve endings ceased. After sliding the hair ribbon off of his wrists, and holding the end of the braid securely, he slid the silk fabric through his fingers until it dangled prettily at the end of your hair in a lovely bow.

“Alright then,” he said, crossing his arms. “Does that sit well with you?”

Finally, you raised your neck, the base aching from the strain. Your hair had been neatly pulled back in a lovely, French braid, laced perfectly, each section with equal amounts of hair, draped elegantly over your shoulder. Your brow arched a little and the corners of your mouth tilted into a light smirk.

“Not bad,” you said, wrapping a lock of your hair around your index.

A low chuckle resonated within the depths of his chest. “It’s better than anything you could do to say the least.”

You closed your eyes and exhaled sharply. “You don’t need to remind me, Walter.”

Suddenly, he flicked your temple, earning a high pitched yelp from you.

“Respect your authorities, little Draculina,” but as soon as you pivoted in your chair to stab him with a glare, the Angel of Death had disappeared.

“H-hey! Walter, that’s not fair!”

But, all you could hear was his quiet laugh, echoing within the halls of the mansion.


	5. Innocence

[Alucard x Reader]

Love, according to your experience, was game you never won.

Your weak, naive heart longed for everything wrong for it, your wholesome affection distorting into poison that traveled through your veins,

It mattered not. Your innocence still clouded your perception of reality, and you continuously entrusted your delicate feelings to those who would only crush it in their hands.

Despite the cracks in your withering soul, you met another.

A beautiful man was he, eyes of vermillion, skin smooth and more perfect than the purest pearl, and hair black as a raven’s wings. A king was he with a fearsome reputation, ruling his subordinates with a fist of iron. Those around him held nothing but the highest of respect for him...

And they feared him more than the devil in his fiery sea...

You encountered him at a typical gathering for the nobility, fine dining, sumptuous wine, nothing but magnificence and splendor. Shivering butterflies filled your stomach as he softly took your fingers and guided you to the dance floor. The tingling sensations burst through to your fingertips, your reasoning strangled by your infatuation.

And he was aware...

Yes, he noticed the captivated twinkle in your eye, the soft blush tainting your cheeks, your timorous tendencies as he approached you. He wished to hold you in ways you always desired but held secret. He knew you could never resist his touch with these hints of carnal desire, smoldering your skin with his fingertips. You yearned a touch so secret, so personal, one you had yet to give to anyone else. He sensed that these epicurean impressions were unexplored to you even taboo.

However, this man wrapped you around his finger, just the look in his eyes prompting you to give in to him, to these strange longings. This dance, thought seemingly innocent with a gentle sway and soft caresses, manifested into a raging furnace that would soon engulf and swallow you whole.

That night, he invited you to bed him, to become one with him between silky sheets and underneath a starry sky studding the hues of cobalt and silvery rays.

His warm breath on your skin sent waves of bliss all across your body, aching for him to teach you, show you more of these unlocked lasciviousness. Heated kisses and rough bite marks decorated nearly every inch of your once untouched canvas in shades of vermillion and crimson. Even with your tender nerves stinging from his burning lust, you wanted more. The way he could work you, shake you, and bend you easily sent you over the edge effortlessly. He seemed so damn perfect at what he did; a mastermind in this intricate, atrocious game of seduction. You were clay in his hands, and he sculpted you exactly the way he wanted you. Even if this man’s past and secrets were unbeknownst to you, you entrusted yourself wholeheartedly to him, unwilling to let him and the feelings surging through you slip through your fingers.

If only you detected the darkness lurking within tapestry of excitement and passion...

Far too drowned were you in your own sensations. Far too blinded were you by your innocence and chastity to notice the wolf concealing itself behind this mask adorned with mystique and romance.

Two little jewels of brilliant scarlet adorned the elegant line of your neck. Your once trembling breaths completely stilled. Your eyes closed, your body limp, your mind drifting away into an eternal sleep. Your skin once warm and flushed with girlish spirit and vivacity was now frozen and lifeless, an empty shell once holding in place a restless and lenient soul.

The tip of his tongue lightly grazed over the rims of his lips, wiping away that sweet evidence. The unearthly glow in his eyes slowly dimmed. With a grim smirk gracing the entirety of his features, he turned to your flaccid body, draping elegantly over the silken sheets. How foolish you were to fall for a creature of the night. How gullible you were to give yourself over to a being with hands made only to ruin and destroy, to drain the lifeblood of those who fell into his trap.

Blinded by your innocence, you surrendered to his beautiful, alluring snare...

And it was all just too easy...


	6. Masque of the Red Death

[Alucard x Reader]

_~“The "Red Death" had long devastated the country. No pestilence had ever been so fatal, or so hideous. Blood was its Avatar and its seal --the redness and the horror of blood. There were sharp pains, and sudden dizziness, and then profuse bleeding at the pores, with dissolution. The scarlet stains upon the body and especially upon the face of the victim, were the pest ban which shut him out from the aid and from the sympathy of his fellow-men. And the whole seizure, progress and termination of the disease, were the incidents of half an hour.” - Edgar Allen Poe~_

The evening commenced a most voluptuous scene, that masquerade. The prince gathered round his finest guests within this strong, lofty facility, the extensive, magnificent structure that was his palace. Dauntless, sagacious were they, full of lightheartedness, surrounded by the finest of entertainment, the richest of dining, wine that would leave the most brilliant mind clouded with intoxication, dancers that captivated the imagination and the attention of all, music that filled their souls with rhythm that carried away the anxieties of life. Nothing but unparalleled beauty.

The drunken joy and energy once drowning all had now lifted, replaced by a cold emptiness.The stench of death eclipsing your senses. The remains of your guests now decorated the ballroom alongside the fine linen and glass. Their blood scattered across the floor like the gentle rose petals. Your head, lowered, the elegant lines of your mask concealing the terror swelling within your chest, the rim of your gown stained with crimson, you awaited your turn, awaited for Death to take you into his arms.

Scarlet eyes smoldered into your own, piercing your very soul. Yet, the plane of his placid face doused his entire demeanor with poise, even arrogance. Pointed pearls shown behind the white curtain of his lips, as they waited, waited eagerly for their next performance, their final destination into the scarlet valley of your tender flesh. The adornments of your mask concealed the crystals sparkling down your cheeks. Yet, you stood firmly, gazing into the face of Death. 

He approached you, slowly, deliberately, making sure each step rang within the hollow space, making sure each little sound wave vibrated your core, announcing your imminent demise. His cool breath lifted a few stranded locks from your forehead. Encircling your waist in a firm grip, and lacing his frigid fingers with your own, he enticed you into a slow waltz.

Despite the quivering of your frail heart, his leverage over you, the dominance he exerted held you in place, drawing you in, capturing you in a trance.

One you would never awaken from...

He pulled you closer, tied you with him. Every rhythmic step lead you to the pathway of no return. His dark smile lured you in, his breath upon your skin, his crimson eyes full of seduction and temptation.

Yet, you never sensed the evil reaching into you, bending you to his will. 

Shimmering pearls cut open precious silk to reveal the liquid rubies you concealed. With every tick of the clock, your breath withered until your soul joined in the Masque of the Dead alongside your unfortunate guests, twirling and laughing merrily until they could no more.

And thus, the clock struck midnight...


	7. Amour

[Pip x Prostitute!Reader]

Just when you thought your day could worsen no more, a thunder clap sent an electrical jolt of anxiety down your spine, and rain drops like cold needles pricked your exposed neck. Though you had grown quite accustomed to your clients leaving you out in the frozen air but you reached your limit today. This week, filled with drowning your sorrows in gin or champagne, sleazy clients and bad sex, was a _bonafide désastre._

But, ladies of the night, such as yourself, received no weekend break, no peace and relaxation. If a client paid for your services, what choice did you have when this was the only way you could earn your pay?

Paris, the city of light, the city of color and romance? What a fucking lie. Paris was a jungle to you, a place you merely struggled to survive in, and you were lucky to go a day with only a few injuries.

Such was the life of a constant survivor.

As you waved your hand to summon a cab, your savior, your ticket home, warm skin enclosed the exposed top of your shoulder. The tight feeling within your chest burst and sunk within your stomach. You turned to find a young man, with long, auburn hair braided over his shoulder, dressed in brown leather and a hat casting shadows over his chiseled features. Dirt, grime and sweat tainted the span of his cheeks and a singular, emerald eye peered into your own. A black eye-patch concealed the socket as a reminder of the eye he once had.

However, unlike a majority of the men that approached you, eyes clouded with a nearly hostile lust, this man wore a gentle smile, one that reached the wrinkles in the corner of his eye.

“Excuse-moi,” he said in a cheery voice.

You narrowed your eyes. “What is it?” You hunched your shoulders trying to send off the idea of the bad mood you were in. “If you don’t mind, hookers need some fucking sleep to, so you can go home, jack of and try again tomorrow.”

His eye widened, brows raised, taken aback by your venomous tone. As fast as it came, he burst into a fit of laughter.

“No, no, cherie!” he said. “That wasn’t what I meant at all! You merely seemed lost, and I was going to offer you a place to stay for the night!”

Despite your hard expression, the notion of finding a warm place to sleep was appealing to you. You were lucky to gather enough for a cheaper than dirt hotel with a creaky bed.

“How much have you got?” you half mumbled to yourself.

His face softened a bit. “Not much but enough for a warm hotel and a soft bed.”

Finally, the aggression in your tired limbs melted away. You were far too exhausted to hold on to such strong feelings.

Right now, all you wanted was sleep.

“Fine,” you said half mumbled.

A grin that could split his face peeled across his lips. “Very good then!”

Before you could lower your gaze to the concrete, ready to follow him, he poked your shoulder once again, When you looked back up, he present his arm to you, eye sparkling.

“What’s this?” you blinked.

He took a moment to process your question. Brows furrowed a little, he replied,

“Hasn’t anyone offered their arm to you? Like a proper gentleman? Or at least faked it?”

Was this even real? Was he real? Was this a dream you had conjured up, a hallucination to cope with the sorrow and heartache you endured for all these years?

A short breath of a air escaped through your nose, the thin remains of a laugh, and a slid through the loop of his arm, you replied, dousing your words in venom,

“Very rarely do I get treated like a proper human being these days.”

Every bit of humor in his face faded away, switched off like a light. A silence built between you two as the taxi drove up. Before you could reach over to open the door, he held up his hand, pulled it open for you and lead you inside, handling you as if your skin was made of glass. Even as he slid in the seat next to you, not one word was spoken. The grim expression still remained.

But, his grip around the crook of your arm only tightened.

With each passing second, the longer you gazed at his profile, his jawline tensing, you were unable to fully comprehend the deep swelling in your chest. Your heart fluttered. The tingling from each pulse spread into your fingertips, and little tears burns the corners of your eyes, threatening to escape.

He treated you more like a human being in just the few minutes you spent with him than most of your clients in all the years you worked at a prostitute.

Did this contribute to the subject of so many songs, poems and films, the object of desires for millions everywhere, the symbol of Paris itself, amour?

The taxi halted, and the young mercenary took your hand, leading you back out into the cold. The hotel in front of which you stood was small, but it was at least clean.

Better than some of the run down joints you were used to.

But, just as you were ready to follow him inside, he pulled out a few francs into your hand.

And just as your stomach was ready to turn into rot, he said, pulling out a cigarette from his coat pocket,

“That should be enough to pay for at least two nights. My men and I stay here when we’re on a mission and need a place to crash,” he pulled out a small silvery lighter, shining in the street light. “It’s not fancy, but they take good care of-”

“Wait, wait,” you said, scratching the back of your head. “You’re not coming in with me?”

He eyed you for a moment, cigarette resting in between his index and middle. Then, he simply chuckled.

You furrowed your brows. “Then, what’s this?”

With a soft sigh, he said, blowing out a long strand of smoke,

“Cherie, I am a mercenary. I know what it’s like to be treated like an outcast, to be thought as less than human.”

You took a moment to sort out his words.

“Besides, I’ve met a few ladies of the night in my time,” he snickered. “They were nothing more than generous ladies with an unfortunate job. Don’t we all though?” he flashed you a wink.

For once in your life, someone finally understood your position.

Leaving you with that, he turned back to the cab, ready to leave you with some time to rest.

But, there was one thing you needed to know.

“Wait a second,” you lightly tapped his shoulders.

When his beautiful, green eye met with yours, your heart fluttered  
“Who-” you cleared your throat. “If they ask who sent me, what name do I give?”

He gazed back into your eyes, the intensity sending a shiver up your spine and quivering in your knees.

You didn’t know it was possible that someone-even a completely stranger-could leave you feeling this way.

And you loved every second of it.

Cracking another dashing smile, he replied,

“Tell them Pip Bernadotte sent you.”


	8. Midnight Pursuit

[Walter x Vampire!Reader]

During the lively hours of the morning, people rose from the beds to greet the sunshine. In that same warm light, they carried on with their day, going about their business, socializing with loved ones, and by the time the purple hues of evening tainted the skies, they retreated to their homes. They crawled into the safety of their beds, sleeping away their troubles, resting for the day ahead.

You, however, thrived during the night.

As the moon graced the terrestrial world below it with its heavenly, silvery light, the shadows rose forth from their slumber, wrapped in a dark embrace, save for the slightest hint of movement, upon which the slowly waltzed over the brick pavements. The black smoke emerging from chimneys melded into the cobalt canvas, darkening the city bellow. Nothing but the quiet chirps of crickets and melancholy song of the owl as music to accompany the dance of the nightly creatures.

You weaved through the alleyways as a needle through a tapestry. Swift of foot, light on your heals, you leapt from rooftop to rooftop, the silvery glimmers of the moon catching in your hair and emitting an eerie radiance within your irises.

You belonged to the night, and you willingly returned its dark embrace.

Energy jolted through your limbs, a surge you only received after drinking blood, as if awakening from a deep fatigue. Nothing now could hold you back, and you soared over the rooftops at inhuman speed.

However, the footsteps behind you grew ever nearer, refusing to let up their chase.

Your head quickly reared to the back, yet you spotted no immediate threat. But, you knew he was coming. With a grunt, you leapt to another rooftop, steps light as a feather. Your shadow stretched along the skylines with ferocity and elegancy. You darted through every building with the greatest of ease, only the corners grazing the sleeve of your jacket ever so slightly.

Despite your inconsistent patterns, the footsteps remained behind. In fact, you could have sworn they grew even closer.

Now might be the time to turn and face.

With an grunt, you slid across the concrete, halting yourself in your tracks. In a blink of an eye, almost too quick even for your vampiric senses, two thin silvery filaments whisked passed you at lightning speed. Without you even realizing it, two, little cuts were left on your cheeks in their wake.

Just as expected.  
You smirked and proceeded to cut through the air in a zig-zag pattern, invisible to the naked eye. All in your wake became nothing more than a colorful blur, save for the mournful, white light of the moon. The air became frozen needles against your skin, drying your throat as you breathed. But, your body never gave way. Every muscle, though contracted and even burning, pushed you a little further, the energy flowing through you.

However, despite your inhuman speed, the wires, shining in the light, floated about you and created a small barrier that prevented your escape. With a gasp, you dug your heals into the ground, creating a trail of dust and dirt behind you. You pivoted and made a dash for the left. The fabric of your sleeves tore only slightly but it was enough to remind you of the danger at hand.

There was no room to underestimate the Angel of Death.

Your legs finally began to tremble from the stress of the run. But, you had no other choice but to increase your speed. You leapt again to your sanctuary on the rooftops, the moonlight your only guide. Your nearly undetectable threats slid across your skin, threatening to go only deeper. Red jewels of blood trailed behind you. You only had one choice now:

Turn and face.

Pulling out your hand guns, you pivoted, aiming them directly at the darting shadow, gaining distance. After firing a few shots, you growled as the as it weaved through with the greatest of ease. You shot a few more. Once again, it glided through the barrier. Before you could turn and run, your shoulders were snatched and a heavy weight caused you to collapse on the roof, your cheeks scraping against the tile. The sting from the sharp edges pulling and tugging at your skin was nothing short of agony engulfing your face, down to the nerves of your neck. The filaments, shimmering in the light, encircled every inch of you, digging, pressing, opening the doorways for tiny rivers of blood across your skin.

Yet, you struggled not one bit.

Your eyes shifted to the corners. You took note of the steel blue eyes, scrutinizing every tiny movement, a monocle reflecting the rays of the moon. Dark hair tied back was carried by the wind. His expression revealed no struggle, no indication of frustration.

Perfectly cool and self-possessed.

The Angel of Death.

You should have been trembling with fear. You should have been begging for mercy. No vampire trapped in his web ever came out alive.

However, you showed no sign of terror, not the tiniest shred.

Instead, a tiny smirk painted your lips, and a low laugh escaped the thin slit in between them.

“A pleasure to see you again, Walter.”

He returned the favor with a dark smile, the grip around his wires loosening ever so slightly.

“The pleasure’s mine.”


	9. Sleeping Sun

[Alucard x Reader]

He could still see you.

Yes, even after these long, dragging centuries, full of war, full of bloodshed, full of tears and death, despite the millions of faces drowning in his consciousness in a sea of insanity, he could still see you perfectly.

You were of little to no importance in the eyes of those who passed by you. A mere peasant were you, serving no purpose in a greater cause, a holy crusade, serving no benefit to the sovereigns of your land. You tended to your daily tasks, your family, your quiet, little home with a bright smile on your face, content, at peace, contrasting the abysmal madness he wandered through.

Perhaps that was why he recalled you so immaculately, from the wrinkle in your brow to the delicate line of your lips to the thin strands of gold in your hair as the sunlight touched it with its fingers.

Yet, the fates lead you to such a nightmare, one you did not deserve, one unfitting for such a gentle soul.

And by his own, filthy, stained hands...

And what for?

For the sake of vengeance? His own twisted desire to eliminate all those who shamed him? Who reduced him to such a state?

The years weighed down his shoulders with such force, he could barely recall his own thoughts and thus ended the stream of consciousness with a breathy, defeated sigh.

He located you in the dismal remains of your home, crackling, crumbling, the remnants of something once good. The metallic, thick smell of your blood dominated his senses as he watched you quivering, staring into the face of death.

Him, the ruler of death.

The Impaler. 

The ultimate vampire.

The Bird of Hermes.

All names describing the only nature he identified himself with:  
A monster.

You gazed at him with imploring eyes, red, swollen, brimming with tears. Though his face revealed nothing of the sort, nothing of his innermost thoughts, every pulse fired a shot of pain through the lines of his still living vessels.

And you begged.

Despite knowing his reputation, despite knowing his character, you pleaded with him.

Not that he might spare you. Not that he might relieve you from your misery.

_”Please...let me at least see the sunlight one more time...Let me sleep in the light of the sun...”_

Such a simple request, but with a family perished and left to ruin, what more did you have to live for?

The more the memory circulated within the frames of his mind, the more his admiration grew for you.

A feeble human, accepting death, when he witnessed so many depraved beings, too cowardly to leave the plains of the earth and instead turn to dealings with darkness.

As if your body had been composed of the finest porcelain, he gingerly lifted your body from the soil. Patiently, he brought you into the air, choked by smoke, ash and spark. Emitting a few whimpers, cracked and faint, you pressed your cheek against his chest and received what little comfort his warmth might have brought you.

And at last, he delivered you to a clean, open space, where a solitary tree resided, brittle limbs bent to the mercy of the wind, crisp leaves floating to the ground like tears, as if mourning for the destruction for the land, charred and lost. Here he placed you. Here you pervaded in the heavenly light of the sun. Its strong arms embraced you, warmed you, eased your agony, untangled the web of chaos and fear your mind trapped you in.

And with a sigh of relief, you immersed yourself into a peaceful, eternal sleep, bathed in the light of the sun.

He could still see you.

The golden light illuminating thin strands of gold within your locks, illuminating your tears into golden droplets streaking down your filthied face, the heat of your skin as you innocently pressed yourself against him.

The look of pure and utter bliss as you finally breathed your last.

Oh, how he envied you, how he longed to achieve that finality instead of forever tying himself to this earth, forever a damned creature, forever in pain.

Forever lost in the realms of life and death.

But, he at least could say he managed to bring someone a sliver of happiness in their final hours.

And that was why, in a way, you were like a sun to him, bringing him the same consolation as the celestial body brought to you.

And perhaps, one day,

he too would achieve that desire he so earnestly desired, ached for, craved for,

sleeping in the light of the sun.


	10. Red Snow

[Alucard/Girlycard x Prostitute!Reader]

Soft, delicate fingers circled to the tops of your thighs. Steady breathing warmed the shell of your ear as her chest cushioned against your back. A chuckle rumbled within the deepness of her breast as silkened lips trailed along the frigid line of your neck.

Eyes heavy with fatigue, you examined the scene before you, the corpses shred over the floor of the alleyway, the blood painting and filling the brick walls, the stench of death dominating your every sense, the pristine snow gathering at your ankles violated with scarlet hues.

But, you were alive, rescued from these damn beings, threatening to ravage you and tear you to shreds.

And this elegant creature saved you, this nightwalker, this child of the darkness.

In all your years of living amongst the streets, being passed from hotel room to hotel room, from one gentleman’s bed to another, from the countless spendings you earned filling every sick desire they concocted, who knew that your fate would end, wrapped in the arms of a mystic entity, a creature of legend?

But, too wearied were you to care at this point.

As if caressing the petal of rose, the pads of her fingers traced over the skin of your neck, leaving behind a crimson trail. With a sultry smirk, her slick tongue lightly erased every evidence of its existence.

“We can’t have that now, can we?” she chuckled in your ear.

Too hypnotized by her dark spell were you to care if she stained you with their blood. Already had you been so tainted by the grizzly beasts that paid for your services. Why was this any different?

But oh, how different it was, for she handled with you as if one breath might have withered you, as if anything more than a gentle touch could have cracked your skin. You became accustomed to nails digging into your tender wrists as they grabbed you, kisses that prevented you from breathing even a sliver of air, jolts and thrusts that left you quivering and numb after the filthy deeds were complete.

Such careful handling was more precious to you than the finest of gold.

Her palm resting softly on the top of your arm, her glossy lips slowly closed over the base of your neck, her tongue glazing over the area. The sensation shot through you like a spark as she tasted, sampled the delicious life fluid you concealed within your priceless rivers. A thin, white mist escaped seemed through your mouth as you sighed deeply, everything inside you slowly relinquishing to her will.

With another quiet chuckle, the vampire’s lips returned to the base of your ear as she twirled a lock of your hair around her deft, nimble fingers.

“I am in need of your blood, my dear,” her whisper sent shivers down your spine. “I am quite famished, you see. Care to indulge me?”

Your breath hitched in your throat, yet no fear, the chilling grip of fear, took hold of your trembling heart. A quick exhale escaping your lips, you tilted your head to the side, exposing the delectable, pulsating vein, throbbing, aching.

She saved your life. She held you close for a moment when you so desperately needed it.

Why should you not pay her back?

The tip of her tongue moistening her lips, a low hiss erupted from her throat, as her shimmering fangs skimmed over their target. A sharp stab took a hold of you, causing you to whimper ever so quietly, but the longer she drank, the more you found yourself easing into her, yearning for her touch. Her hands cradled you, held you firm, as if to comfort you for all those years of being left in solitude with nothing more than the beasts that lusted for you.

You watched the delicate flakes descend gracefully to the blanket beneath you. Even with your tired eyes, glazing over, you could still see their glittering arms flow and dance before you.

And the last thing you could recall seeing was a thin trail of your blood fall below, staining the pure, white snow with red.


	11. Hypnosis

[Alucard x Vampire!Reader]

You swore he had you under a spell.

Yes, you were absolutely positive the man in red had reached into the deepest cabinets of your mind, emptied out everyone of them and replaced them with the lewdest of thoughts, the darkest of desires, the secretest of passions.

And all were connected to him.

Every last one of them.

You expected that after accepting the powers of the night, after partaking of the blood of your victims, you abandoned all of those silly human notions, all those feelings that made you weak, with no other desire than to follow the bidding of your master.

But, this man, the creature that took your hand and lead you across the border into the realms of the darkness, somehow managed to reignite that little spark within you.

Was it possible for one of the undead to hide such thoughts for a monster?

No other explanation could exist for this phenomena other than sorcery.

Either way, you clung to it.

It was a drug to you.

It filled you with excitement when you weren’t digging your fangs into the flesh of your enemies.

It felt like a game, seeing how long you could go a day, an hour, a second, without thinking of him. But, once he entered the vicinity, all was lost. He immediately captivated you with every movement, his luscious, rich voice, his crimson eyes, concealing the blackest of pasts, twisted secrets, and a bed of chaos and madness that no one but him could possible comprehend.

Oh, how you wanted him...

You didn’t care the reasoning behind your feelings. The truth was this: there was no logic behind it.

It was there.

And you were listening to it.

So much as listening to him talk with another was enough to drive you mad. Visions of him taking you down into his cavern plagued you. You imagined the stinging of his fangs scraping over every inch of your skin, the pricks from his nails digging into your body. You felt his breath warming every contour of your flesh, then smoldering them with kisses and bites, inhaling your lips in a mess of smothering kisses, dragging his burning tongue over your flesh, the sensations setting fire to your overstimulated nerves.

You knew that if he had his way, he would dominate you, overtake you, leave you quivering beneath him, breathless, covered in his marks.

And you wanted it.

You loved this obsession. As much as these tortured you, drained you of all focus, you loved it.

And he knew it.

Unbeknownst to you, he was fully aware of the lustful beast you kept chained behind your delicate appearance. He perceived every thought, every vehement gaze, every subtle gesture.

Instead of humoring you or indulging you in your wants, he quietly denied you.

Instead of seducing you into the confinements of his room, he turned away.

He even ignored his own urges to capture you in his grasp, to pin you beneath you beneath him, work and bend you in ways you never knew were possible.

Now was not the time for such trivial matters, not in the middle of a war.

Yet, holding back the vortex of desires added to the excitement.

Testing your limits, testing your strengths, testing your willpower simply added to the pleasure.

A game you both were determined to win.

And so you continued on, turning away, looking away, only to indulge yourself in thoughts of him, waiting for the day in which he would finally take you, in which he would finally break you.

But, the hypnosis would forever keep you under his spell, one that could never be shattered.

Not that you ever wanted to be liberated from it begin with...


	12. Silent Night

[Walter x Vampire!Reader]

How long had it been since you witnessed the glorious season of Christmas?

You must have been no more than a child when you last unwrapped a gift that brought an innocent gleam to your eyes, when you strolled the streets of London in the soft, falling snow, watching the twinkling lights, listening to the sounds of children laughing and giggling, carolers filling the air with joyous melodies.

You always loved Christmas. You loved the excitement, the wonder, the magic. It was like a magical land all on its own.

But, as soon as you became a vampire, a dark creature of the night, wandering the streets at your own accord, hunting for blood, killing those who dared got in your way, you saw no reason to take part of the frivolities of humankind. It was all foolishness. It was a waste of your time.

Yet, as you strolled down the icy streets, watching the children at play, listening to the music, marveling at the sparkling decorations and aromatic scent of cakes, cookies, and all manner of pastries, the little, human child you thought was lost to your dark, supernatural nature came out again, peering through the sad, glassy window of your eyes, longing to be a part of it again.

But, what good did it do you know? You were not even human anymore...

With a shivering sigh, white breath seeping through your lips, you returned to your headquarters at Hellsing, the one place you felt at home, the only place your mystic abilities was accepted and put to good use. The warmth of the building encircled you, prickling your frigid skin as it warmed. Lazily, you draped your coat over the hooks and meandered to the living room. Hopefully, someone would have thought to build a fire to combat the subzero temperature.

Everything was still. Everything was quiet. No one, besides yourself, dared ventured out at this late hour when rest needed to be attained. But you were used to this. You belonged to the night now, so sleep was a luxury you could only afford when necessary.

If you even wanted it at all...

Sure enough, licks of orange and gold greeted you as you entered. The flames crackled and snapped, quivered and danced as if excitedly inviting you to sit before it. Not far from the mantle , a large, emerald green tree stood majestically at its side. The lights about it twinkled like little fairies dancing among its branches. The ornaments of silver and gold only surrounded it with an etherial glow, tugging your mouth into a little smile. You had to admit, the sight was pleasant, and the notion of coming home to a Christmas tree was one you had not thought of in years. The heat soaked into your frozen fingers, stinging as it traversed up the length of your arms, into areas you could no longer feel. With a soft sigh, you closed your eyes and pressed your cheek into the cushion, hoping sleep would envelop you and grant you with a bit of escape from the sorrows drenching your mind.

Suddenly, an ominous shadow looming at the window grabbed your attention. But just as you were about to prepare yourself for battle, you caught sight of a the familiar long and lean outline, ebony hair tied back with a crimson ribbon, and sharp, intimidating but elegant features lined by the soft light of the tree.

It was only the household butler, your partner in crime, and your dearest friend.

With a relieved sigh, you sunk back into the couch. Feline eyes shifted over to you and acknowledged your presence. You nodded, as did he. The cigarette hung from his mouth, a thin strand of smoke slowly rising from the glowing end. You held each other’s gaze before his finally took over, leaving you to revert back to the comfort of the floor. But, you space was broken when his weight sunk the cushion beside you. Warmth radiated from his presence. The strong scent of the cigarette invaded and filled your nostrils. You turned to him ever so slightly. He gazed into the intensity of the flames, the reflection shimmering in his monocle.

You had not realized it until he filled the empty space. Solitude remained at your side for so many years that you grew accustomed to it. You practically swam in the numbness it brought, the drollness inside you.

At last, you felt a little spark within your seemingly lifeless heart, tenderness, appeal that you forgot existed in this world.

And you had him to thank for it.

With a quiet sigh, you rested your head against his shoulder, strong and secure. He jolted in surprise. His back became stiff and rigid.

But, he felt your complete trust as you melted into him, your hair swathing over his arm, the golden highlights as the fire cast its light upon it. For someone belonging to the night, you still projected a spark of humanity that surprised even him.

So, he smiled. Resting an arm about your shoulder, he pulled you just a little closer, wanting to feel more of that spark. Your breath hitched your throat but you eventually eased into it, tightening your arms about him more, until you were certain the bond would forever remain unbroken.

And you remained here, until sleep overtook you, dragging you down into a dreamless peace, here at his side, the primary sound accompanying you on this silent night being his fluttering heart, beating only for you.


	13. Good Night, My Love

[Child!Alucard x Child!Reader]

“Vlad, look! Do you see them?”

“Hm? What is it? What do you see?”

He watches you. Your eyes become dark pools of translucence, reflecting the light of the glittering stars. The delicate sickles beneath them transform them into vast oceans that extend beyond the heaven’s realms. The small opening in the ceiling of your prison cell provides only a preview of what you longed to see most:

The outside world, a place you could run free and wild with no chains to break and rub raw your porcelain skin.

He sees that desire glinting even as you fade. It is a light that refuses to diminish even when Death waits for you to take his hand.

But, selfish thoughts overwhelm him. His only companion are you, his little guardian that stands at his side, even when your legs are beaten and cut, trembling beneath you. You hold each other at night when sleep evades you. You tell each other stories of distant lands and adventures to distract each other from the fear and terror of the coming days.

Who would he have now?

Slowly, your eyes begin to quiver, weighted down by sleep and fatigue. His heart races. His little fingers fill the spaces between your own, and he draws closer.

“Tell me. What do you see?” he asks again.

“Hm,” you manage to gather enough strength to flutter your lids open once more. “I see the stars dancing. See how they twinkle? It’s like they’re dancing. Maybe they’re having a ball of some kind,” a breathy laugh escapes your lips. “I bet they’re waiting to greet us up there, Vlad. Don’t you want to dance among the stars?”

Even with his ebony hair framing his pale face in shadows, his smile is plain to see.

“Yes, and one day, we will,” he presses his cheek against your own and pulls you as close to himself as he can. He won’t let you go. He can’t let you go.

But, alas, life is something no man can control. Your body, defeated and exhausted, can no longer bear the torture of your merciless captors.

You sigh deeply once more as if giving up what remains of your soul. “If one of us goes before the other, we have to save a dance for them, okay?”

Tears crystalize within his caverns of blue. “Yes, I promise.”

“I promise too, Vlad,” you say as you slightly turn to him, enveloping yourself in his warmth.

But, you no longer possess the heat of the living. Your body grows limp like the body of a doll. Your scratched and scarred skin is cold against his.

Death is now leading you to that dance among the heavens where you would await him.

Horrible mixtures of rage and disappointment clutch his broken heart. Tears cascade down his face like a waterfall. He curses them. He curses his captors. He vows one day to slaughter those who dared lay their finger on you, who dared to use you like their plaything. A new hatred is born, one that would drive him to become something he never thought he could.

A monster.

But, for now, he strokes your silky locks, holding you tight, grieving for your departure.

Yet, he still sees you. He sees you twirling among that silvery light, laughing, dancing, waiting for him.

And he knows you will.

Even if he would forever remain tied to this world.

With a low hum, he whispers against your frigid ear,

“Good night, my love.”


	14. Lady In Waiting

[Pip x Waitress!Reader]

7:00 PM.

7:30 PM.

8:00 PM.

“Don’t look at the clock,” you told yourself. 

You bit your lip, concealing the boiling rage slowly beginning to skyrocket. As each second passed, you gripped the dishes harder and harder until you were sure it could shatter at any moment. The torture from your nerves revealed itself through the squeezing in your stomach, the tightening of your lungs and chest, even the shortness of your breath!

_He’ll be okay._ you told yourself time and time again. _He always comes back. He was never late!_

But, time ticked by.

The temperatures within you dropped and escalated, the anxiety refusing to decide what it wanted to use against you, only making your confusion even worse. 

Your eyes flickered towards the glass doors, their color darkening with each second that passed by, painted by hues of purple and blue. Worries plagued your mind, fighting against the dwindling optimistic thoughts left in your head. 

You knew what you were getting into when you agreed to date him, the infamous Pip Bernadotte, Captain of the Wild Geese. He expertise? To kill. His forte? To fight. And what for? 

It was simply his job.

That meant, every time he left for "work," it was another way of saying his life was on the line.

You placed your elbows on the granite countertop, resting your head on the backs of your hands. You resisted. You resist with all your might.

But, the anxiety fluttering your heart took over, and you glanced at the clock. 

8:30 PM.

Yet, he was nowhere to be seen. 

It was too much for you to take at this point. You were too much of a mixture of strong emotions: anger, worry, fear. All so strong.

Almost too strong for you to take anymore. 

With a sharp exhale, you wandered back into the kitchen, clenching your nails so hard, the tips of your nails dug uncomfortably into your skin. Almost abusively, you snatched the bag of coffee beans and slammed it in front of you. 

If there was one thing that took your mind off of things, it was making a pot of coffee. You prided yourself in your coffee. No one made it like you.

As you initiated the repetitive motions of grinding the beans to powder, allowing their enticing, smoky, bitter scent to overtake you, you found the edge inside you dulling just a little. The soothing jazz music still emitting from the radio soothed your nerves a little bit at a time with each note, the soft, rosy colored walls bringing you just a hint of cheer. Then, watching the clear water filter into that rich, delicious fluid, one that brought so many cheer and energy, even in your stressed state, it brought you a smile. 

After pouring yourself a mug, you wandered into the dining hall, taking a seat closest to the window. Cars flew by in streaks of light. Flickering street lamps illuminated their way. A few lucky shop owners were closing up for the night, an even luckier few going home to loved ones. 

Still, there you sat, staring into night, waiting for your own.

As your thoughts rambled on and on, the cycle of worry returned to your lover, your beloved Frenchman out in the field of battle, slaying those who dared cross the path of the Wild Geese. As skilled as he was, he was still a man, still flawed. Mistakes could easily be made.

And when your eyes drifted back to the clock, your heart started to pound.

9:30 PM.

Two hours passed the promised curfew. 

You knew well that considering his job, it was necessary to give him room for mistakes. But, the mind has always been cruel, taking something smaller and assuming the worst.

Where was he? 

Why had he not returned yet?

Biting your lip, your fingers ran cold, clammy. Your pulse beat against your ear. Not even the coffee, the music or the rosy walls could not calm you. 

You needed him back, just some sign that he was alive and well.

With a gulp, you stood up from your seat. Hot tears burned the little tear ducts at the corners of your eyes. Something must have gone wrong. It was the only reason why he was so late, right?

Maybe he just stopped by with his friends to get something to drink.

But, why would he say 7:00?

He could have just gotten side tracked. 

But, what if-?

Suddenly, a knock came to the window. With a small yelp, you jumped in your seat, the boiling fluid nearly spilling over the rim. You glanced over at the perpetrator unsure whether to run or put up your fists.

Then, you saw him; honey red hair, tanned skin, large hat concealing his face in the shadows.

And that smile.

That stupid bright smile that always made you laugh.

“_Mon cher!_” Pip’s voice came muffled through the glass. “You gonna let me in or what? I’m freezing my ass off out here!”

A surge of emotions ran through you, practically choking you. You weren’t sure if you were angry, excited, upset, or what.

One thing you knew for sure, you were just relieved to see him. 

Concealing your cries with all your might to the point of straining your throat, you unlocked the door to the coffee shop, allowing the putrid smell of blood, smoke and body odor invade the sweet scent of pastries and coffee. But, you didn’t mind. You had grown used to it.

After dropping his bags, he plopped himself in the nearest seat and leaned his head back.

“Mind if I have a smoke?” he inquired, already pulling out the small packet.

Before you could even answer, he pulled out the lighter, firing it up. You watched his every movement. He didn’t seem injured, save for a few splotches of mud, crusted blood, scratches, cuts and just pure exhaustion. 

Oh, how you wanted to yell at him. 

Oh, how you wanted to vent your feelings for scaring you half to death the way he did. 

Until you noticed something, something you rarely saw in your gunslinging lover.

Tears. 

Yes, tears.

In his remaining emerald eye, a thin strand of fluid streaked down his filthied face. He breathed slowly, containing himself, preventing any sobs or even a tremble in his breath. 

Suddenly, every trace of anger melted away.

But, of course. You couldn’t forget what he did for a living. He was a mercenary, right? He killed for money. He battled for a living.

But, that meant other lives were at stake; friends, comrades in arms. 

Who did he lose this time around? 

You wanted to ask him, but would that be too much? Damn, how you despised feeling useless like this! With a huff, you shuffled back to the kitchen. It took you a minute to regain your composure. 

Suddenly, your displeasure with him previously was completely gone.

It just pained you to see him this way.

After pouring him a fresh pot of your coffee, you returned to the table, watching him take a few deep breaths of his cigarette. You noticed the white streak from the tears cleaning away the grime. 

“Hey,” you said, placing the mug in front of him. 

He didn’t even budge.

Clearing your throat, you took his chin and forced him to look at you. The cloud of sorrow still darkened his face. 

“Damn, look at you,” you said with a little laugh. Taking one of the napkins from the container on the table, you began wiping the dirt away. “You look like shit.”

A small chuckle vibrated in his throat. “So, what else his new? I always look like shit after a job.”

“Ah, well,” at last, you were looking at a clean face, still a lovely tan, little strands of facial hair tickling your palm at you cupped his face. “Still as sharp as ever.”

“Ah, you’re too kind, cherie,” moving the cigarette from his mouth, he leaned in to cover your mouth in a kiss, slow and sweet.

Your troubles seemed to melt away at the contact. This was all you needed; to be close to your lover, to kiss him, to hold him tight, even if he kept his emotions to himself.

“I’m sorry I kept you waiting, _mon cher_,” he half whispered against your lips, warm breath tingling the back of your neck. 

“I’d wait here all day for you, Pip,” you said in between light pecks. 

He smirked a bit, the sparkle finally returning to his eye. “My sweet lady in waiting.”

“Oh, please,” you scoffed, playfully hitting his chest.

But, before you walked away, he pulled you back to him, settling you snuggle in his lap and locking his arms around your wait, preventing any kind of escape.

He was such a damn tease.

However, you never stopped it anytime soon. 

“So, tell me about your day, babe?” he said, resting his chin on your chest. 

Lacing your arms around his neck and pressing your forehead against his, you were determined to wash his troubles away with more than just conversation. 

After all, he deserved all that and more.


	15. Relinquish

[Yandere!Alucard x Noble!Reader]

_Crushing..._

He merely grabs your wrists, and that alone makes you realize the sheer power within his form.

And this does not even contain a fraction of it...

The silver moonlight streaming through the window, the white and coral lace of your curtains, the licking of the golden flames within your hearth, the black of his coat and his pristine shirt, wrinkling beneath, all become a melded blur of nothing.

All you note, all you perceive is the smoldering of his crimson eyes, and the glimmering of his pearled fangs. 

Despite his many nocturnal visits, you speak not a word of this to your family of noble birth. After all, the golden band adorning your finger binds you to another. Your fate is tied to someone of your parents’ choosing, someone who can continue your family line, someone who brings status to your noble family name. Day in, day out, you are under their intense supervision. You feel trapped, unable to escape.

Until the veil of night encircles you, a shadow creeps into your corridors.

He wears a guise of beauty; skin of porcelain white, hair blacker than the night, eyes of a deep, hypnotizing crimson. He weaves a tapestry of mesmerizing deception, clouding the eyes of all around them, intoxicating them with a taste of mystery and delight. 

And you feel no different.

Too enthralled by his beautifully crafted web are your family to even notice these secret gazes.

He lures you into enticing world, a world full of sin yet twisted pleasure. 

He visits you at night, unveiling his true nature, only exciting you ten fold. He indulges you in pleasures dared not whispered or even thought of in the world you dwell in. You remove the shimmering shackle from your finger and cling to him. You long to wander with him, a creature - no, the lord of the night. 

And he is determined to fulfill those secret wishes.

You family notices your drawing distant. They tighten the chain about your neck. Their eyes never leave your form, always watching, always scrutinizing. They take note of the lovely glow in your cheeks dimming, your decrease in energy. All these strange signs, yet no one could truly discover your ailment.

They tried to take you. They tried to pull you away from your nocturnal, safe haven, from the embrace of your dark lover.

But, he would have none of that.

You recall the scent of blood violating your nostrils. You remember screams of agony, expressions contorted into grimaces of pain. In the midst of the blackness, you perceive eyes, alit like raging flames, and fangs glinting like a forged blade. 

Cold breath against your neck, the tips of his teeth grazing down the line of your neck, sending shivers down your spine, your wrists between his hands...

_Crushing_ you...

You are engulfed by his power...

And all you know to do is to relinquish.


	16. Autumn Evening

[Alucard x Blind!Reader]

The breeze whispered through the trees, rustling them just enough for the red and golden leaves to break and float to the ground. A grey blanket of clouds covered the sky, only revealing a pale glow along the horizon and a flew flecks of starlight within the cloak of midnight blue. The more darkness settled over London, the brighter the city grew, teeming with nightlife, brimming with those who indulge in the pleasures of the night, the delights only offered by the dark. From a far distance, the noise of crowded streets reduced only to soft murmurs and hums drifting through the city, creating a far more peaceful atmosphere than one would see being dropped in the midst of the chaos.

A beautiful, lively scene, one that only a select few would take the time to notice.

It was only a matter of time before it would fall into the hands of destruction once again.

In his hundreds of years living on this earth, he witnessed it time and time again. With such a feeble, juvenile race like humanity, wars and fights were inescapable.

Still, even a bloodthirsty monster of Hell could appreciate quiet moments like these.

Only for a moment...

For him, ennui took little time to set in.

Immortality was known to paint the world in shades of insipid greys and black.

Crimson eyes shifted to your form, your spine erect, but not tense, chin raised, eyes fixed straight ahead. You inhaled the cool, autumn air, allowing the wind to caress your hair and face and ruffle your clothes. Your hands draped loosely over the top of your cane. The warm, orange light of the sun heated your face, enhancing your features, but he especially focused on the thick, cloudy cataracts coating your pupils and irises. Despite no dilation or movement within your sockets, your half lidding eyes and tiny smile indicated a loss in some happy place within your mind.

He couldn’t help but smile a little himself.

In the long time working together, you not once seemed hindered by this handicap of yours. When so many others fell to the clutches of their woes or used their ailments to take advantage of others, you simply acclimatized yourself to the lightless world you were born into. Becoming a proficient fighter, an eligible hunter, a seasoned spy for the Queen, rather than simply existing, you did more. You thrived, and very little did any longing for a world filled with light and colors clench your heart.

This fact alone captivated him, and just when he believed humanity could never surprise him again. A human deemed broken by the rest of the world refused to give up, refused to affirm these silly, societal assumptions.

People like you deserved a second a chance to rise above your enemies and crush them beneath your feet.

Causing you to glance in his direction, the grass crunched beneath his feet as he approached you. A little chuckle resonated in his throat as you reached out to clutch the sleeve of his coat and pull yourself closer to his form.

“You seem surprised to see me, little one,” he said, brushing pieces of hair from your face. “To think that you always boast of your incredible, audial perception.”

A giggle fluttering in your chest, you replied,

“I was so lost in thought, I never heard you approach,” you raised your head enough for your gaze to meet the general direction of his face. “How long have you been standing there?”

“Not long,” sliding his arm around your shoulders, he redirected his attention to the metropolitan scene. “Do you come here often?”

“I do. I like how the sounds of the city meld perfectly with the sounds of nature up here,” the corners of your eyes and your nose crinkled as you grinned.

A quick breath of air released from his nose, the most he could muster for a chuckle.

“Only you would notice something like that. Very impressive.”

“Well, in a state like mine, you learn to appreciate things most people wouldn’t notice.”

With a sigh of contentment, you rested your head against his shoulder, taking in his scent - a strange blend of an old, fine wine and a suggestion of blood. His body produced no heat, yet feeling the tough fibers of his coat and the soft filaments of his ebony hair brushing against your skin kindled a warmth in your chest no fire could ever produce. Sensing the vibrations in his chest as he spoke and his long, almost labored breaths sparked a flush in your cheeks.

It was certainly nice to feel the youthful sensations of an innocent crush, especially with such a demanding job depleting most of your energy on a day to day basis.

While you fantasized often of an eternity with him, the thought of receiving immortality both fascinated and terrified you. Walking a never-ending path of life, witnessing everyone around you wither and die? Never being able to enjoy the happy light of the sun or sumptuous flavors of food and drink? Such an adjustment, despite having indescribable power at your fingerstips, sounded more traumatizing than exciting.  
Then again, you would be with him, the all powerful King of the Vampires, Nosferatu, and most importantly, the only being alive ever to treasure you, blindness and all. Would that be such a bad thing?

He even offered you the chance. Only once, after a long, arduous battle, one nearly claiming your life, he offered this to you. As you writhed in your bed, every muscle clenched and ached. The bandaged wounds around your waist throbbed so sharply, it felt as though knives still burrowed through your cavities. The beat of your heart drummed throughout your chest and limbs, urging your body to fight with all its power. As he sat at the edge of your bed, watching you struggle for your life, refusing to surrender even looking into the face of death, a smile rested on his lips. Such determination was worthy of recognition, and belligerent souls like yours deserved a second chance.

Still clinging desperately to a thin strange of hope for recovery, you declined....for now. You were scared. You were terrified in fact, but you hoped. Abandoning your humanity frightened you perhaps even more than death. A natural process every human would face versus everlasting life?

For some reason, one you to this day tried to piece together, that intimidated you.

“Not now,” you wheezed. “I feel I can be of more use as I am now. For the time being anyway.”

He paused, obviously shocked by your rejection.

“Are you certain?”

No, you weren’t. You needed more time to think, if you were lucky to receive that time. But, your decision remained the same, so you faked it.

“I am,” you managed a tired smile. “Besides, I’m not sure if my mind could handle an entirely new sense at this point. I mean, if turning into a vampire for some reason gave my sight back.”

A little joke to hide your uncertainty.

But, he knew, and in a way, he respected your decision.

Having lost his humanity so many years ago, and in the middle of world so obsessed with youth and everlasting life, he admired your courage to follow life’s path, knowing fate could snuff out your flame at any moment.

“If you insist, but I’m here should you change your mind...”

The wind increased in speed, pricking your skin like sharp needles. Clouds billowed at the end of the horizon, building higher and higher until the remaining sunlight was swallowed by their form. Reflexively, your body trembled.

“Must be a cold front,” you muttered, tightening your jacket around you.

Glancing down at you, he smirked a little. When expressed through someone like you, he could appreciate the small weakness humans experienced.

“Shall we return?” he inquired.

You shook your head.

“Nah, I don’t mind. I want to stay a little longer,” you took in a deep breath. “I love the way it smells and feels during this time of year. Besides,” you slinked your arm through the crook of his elbow. “how often do we get to spend quality together like this?”

With curt sigh and a raise of an eyebrow, he replied,

“If you insist.”

“Aw, come on,” you nudged him with your forearm. “It’s nice to take it slow and enjoy the scenery every once in a while!”

“Hm,” he folded his arms over his chest. “I’m afraid the simple pleasures in life are less than exciting to me these days.”

“Tell you what,” you said. “You describe to me what you see, and I’ll listen and make witty comments.”

He pursed his lips.

“Again?”

“Hey, it’ll keep you occupied, won’t it?” once more, you plopped your head on his chest. “Besides, I love listening to your voice. It feels nice.”

Contrary to his feigned annoyance, he never minded complying to such a small request. Most humans were demons of greed and lust with appetites never to be satisfied. He could appreciate the rare acquiescent spirit you contained.

Though he liked the notion of you forever at his side, he wanted to treasure these jewels of your humanity for as long as he could.

With a click of his tongue, he finally replied,

“Alright, but if you fall asleep again, I refuse to carry you back.”

With a hearty laugh, you replied,

“Fine by me!”


End file.
